Flying and Blackberries
by DarkKritter
Summary: PansyGinny, almost fluff.


Heya. Fifth in one day. Is that a sort of record? Maybe I should attempt one. I think maybe ten would be great. But whether or not I'm capable of it is another story.  
  
So I think I'll do a happy one since the others were at most kinda happy. But I don't do fluff I notice. Ah well. And this one will be dedicated to my girlfriend since she's over right now and I kind of want to dedicate this to her, since well, there is love.  
  
I don't own them, though I have put a bid on Hermione. I might win her right?  
  
Flying and Blackberries  
  
I'm still not sure when it began. You're lying against me and you feels so warm. And my tears have already dried and it doesn't leave that weird residue on my cheeks. I think you might have kissed them away. You feel good in my arms, like you belong there. Like I belong nowhere else. I think maybe I might love you, but love is a strong word. Too final... almost like I've actually thought about it.  
  
And I haven't. Thought about this I mean. You're with me almost everyday. Usually its just stolen moments passing in corridors, but you're with me. There weren't many places in the school that you can take your best friend and talk to her. There aren't many opportunities for laughing and secret telling. Especially considering that you're not in my house. And not even in my year. And people would never, ever, expect us to be friends, not like this. Not lying together in my bed and holding you desperately because someone might come to take you away. HE might come to take you away.  
  
But we are friends. We've been friends since you were just a child and I wasn't a child, because Merlin be damned if I was ever that small. But you were as you are now. You were all smiles and all fairy tales and I was just the same really, but maybe a little colder because my father wouldn't allow me to be any different.  
  
I resented them when I was growing up, my parents. They instilled within me dozens of lessons that I had to memorize, which fork to use, what colors to wear, and how to sit just like a proper chaste lady. But sometimes, sometimes... I can remember being looked at a little differently, because shouldn't girls of our stature not like girls of your status.  
  
But I think you had it right. I think when I was shuttled off to your house to spend the day because mom was just a bit too busy and nannies were too untrustworthy, especially for Full Blood Families such as ourselves, you taught me the most important lessons. You showed me that flying on junior brooms in the orchard is the best thing in the world. You showed me that sitting properly doesn't matter when you're climbing trees and picking blackberries off branches and eating them without washing is why proper forks don't matter, because you can't pick berries with forks.  
  
And you laugh when I try to teach you Dark Spells, because "we're much too small for that, silly." And you teach me spells to make dungbombs explode louder. I try to show you how to plait your hair so it won't get so messy, and you laugh. "You're supposed to get all mussed up, how else should you know when you're having fun?"  
  
And it made sense didn't it. But of course my father and your father, though cousins, were never too close to each other. And no one can even tell we're related because really, I don't think we are. You're all red hair and pale pale skin and I'm all blond hair that doesn't really have any color and pale pale skin. Or maybe we are related after all and this is even more of a sin.  
  
But you sigh and turn in your sleep and snuggle into me more so this can't be wrong. You're angelic and perfect where I'm Dark Arts and Death Eaters.  
  
You're the angel of my darkest nightmares. The one who tries to save me, but finds theres nothing to save. Nothing at all to see but emptiness and taught smiles.  
  
But that's a lie really because if I couldn't be saved I wouldn't be here with you. Or rather you wouldn't be here with me. In my room, all green and silver which is horrible against your red and pale cream. But its fine because your eyes are blinking at me, sleepily, and you smile.  
  
" You should go to your room."  
  
" Its still early."  
  
" You don't want to be caught."  
  
" I suppose not."  
  
" Why aren't you afraid?"  
  
" Of who? You? Your housemates?"  
  
" .. of everyone."  
  
" Because, love, the only one who can hurt me now is you."  
  
And you smile at me and press your lips against mine. And I think I might be crying except I can't tell because I cry too often to differentiate between teary and not teary. But your hand is tangled in my hair and you're pulling me closer and really, its simple now that I think about it. You don't have anyone to fear because you're deep inside of me. Deep in that place where not even my father can reach with his disapproving glares and my mother is far too far away to get to you there either. And that's the one place that only you have, too, because you're the only one who can hurt me. You can break me, and shatter me.  
  
And it won't happen because you're whispering in my ear that you love me, and I'm saying it back without even thinking because I don't need to think about it. And your kisses taste like blackberries and flying in summertime orchards.  
  
They wouldn't expect us to be friends. Not while we walk down halls and look at each other, my eyes never softening because I can see everyone else and they're looking at you. And you're mine, can't they tell, but they don't and so my eyes don't soften, even though you can tell I love you as we walk through halls.  
  
And its another night, long long down the line when I'm graduating and you're nuzzled against me talking about future plans and trying not to think about wars and casualties and brothers who still haven't contacted you. And you even kiss the branded on mark on my arm when it starts to glow and it becomes painful. You give me that look in your eyes that says you understand how I have no choice, how father really is that strong and I am that weak. And we ignore the Dark Mark when we can because it doesn't matter.  
  
They don't even blink when I come to Grimmauld place the day after graduation and ask to join them. And you just smile, and Molly-momma, as she'd been known when I was younger, is smiling happily and pulling me into a hug, because really I'm just as much a daughter to her as anyone else. And I'm looking at you, all smiles and fairy tales, and you're looking at me smiling and silently you mouth the words, "I love you." And never, ever in the world, is there a spell more powerful than that. 


End file.
